


Condolences

by LaughingFreak



Category: John Wick (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Injury, Male-Female Friendship, assassin connections, takes place after john wick 2, while john is on the run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21917572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingFreak/pseuds/LaughingFreak
Summary: Natasha runs into John again for the first time in years and she wishes she didn’t have to, not like this.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov (Marvel) & John Wick
Comments: 2
Kudos: 84





	Condolences

**Author's Note:**

> I like the idea of Natasha and Clint having friends in places. I also just like Natasha having more friends. Besides, she was an assassin, so of course she's gonna know other assassins out there (can't forget my boy Clint does too and you can't take that away from me!).
> 
> Also, I feel like this thing ends rather abruptly, but it wasn't mean to be super long either, so I ended it where I could.

She didn’t want to see him again, not like this. It had nothing to do with any ill feelings towards him and everything to do with the fact that if he was back that meant nothing good for him. He was her friend, like Clint was her friend, and she wanted him to be happy.

John Wick is sitting on the couch in the living room of Stark Tower, bleeding onto the fabric and suit disheveled. Next to him on the couch was a dog lying close to him, the dog’s boxy head on his lap.

If he’s here bleeding on the sofa that only means one thing: he’s back in the life.

Babayega is back.

Next to her Clint says, “Oh shit…” His body tenses before slowly releasing into relaxation, but his fingers twitched and almost went for the bow on his back. The dog lifts it’s head from John’s lap.

The bleeding assassin looked up and straight at her. “Natasha.”

“John.” She pursed her lips and turned to Clint. “Get the first aid kit.”

Clint sighed and went to do so. Natasha walked over to the other man, her fellow assassin, and sat on the table in front of him. She looked him over, taking stock of what she could see of his injuries. Took note of his labored breathing—probably a broken or fractured rib—the cut lip and bruises, the large blood soaked spot in his side, the broken skin on his knuckles. There were bags under his eyes like he hasn’t had good sleep in days, weeks, but he was still alert.

“What are you doing here, John?” she asked with a frown.

John closed his eyes for a moment before answering. “I needed a place to stay, so I could heal.” He shifted, flinching at the pain. “I’m not allowed sanctuary.”

Clint came back with a first aid kit and some hot dogs for the pitbull. He gave the kit to Natasha, who took it and started grabbing what she needed, then opened the package of Frank’s Ballpark hot dogs to feed the dog. “So, you decide to come bleed on our couch? Tony’s going to love that,” said the archer as he fed a hot dog to the dog and stroked his back.

There was no medallion involved, no contracted favors or obligations, this was just a man coming to seek sanctuary from a friend. He needed time to heal because when he stepped back out those doors he was back on the run and fighting for his life.

And he had just lost the love of his life.

John shifted forward to get within her reach and took off his shirt, so she could start mending his wounds. As she was mending his wounds Clint fed and played with the pitbull, like the dog lover he was.

“Were you happy?” she asked him quietly, quiet enough that Clint wouldn’t overhear over his cooing towards the dog, but John would pick up.

John’s answer was just as soft, his expression soft and pained. “Yeah.”

She pauses in wrapping the gauze around his torso to take his bloody hand into hers, giving it a light squeeze, her expression soft for a moment. “I’m glad you had that, John.” Then she went back to finishing her work.

“You’ve found your place, too.” _A family._ He didn’t need to say it for Natasha to hear it in his voice or in-between the words. A man of few words, but one she understood.

She finished bandaging him and stood up. John put his shirt back on and buttoned it up before leaning back against the couch. Clint looked up and watched the dog go back to his master and said, “You can stay on Nat’s floor. Or mine. Whichever you choose till you’re healed.” He looked at the dog. “Though, I’m kind of leaning towards me just so I can have the dog in the same room.”

“You just stay on my floor with me, too, Clint.” She rolled her eyes.

Clint shrugged with an amused huff. “True; sleepovers happen more often around here that you’d think.” He narrowed his eyes on the couch. “I’m not telling Tony. He’s already going to blame me anyways.”

Natasha hummed then looked at the assassin. “Rest. I’ll look into what I can do for you, so you have an advantage.” She thought about the one gun she saw on his person. “And weapons with plenty of ammo.”

The man’s shoulders relaxed and he hauled himself onto his feet with a small groan. “Thank you,” he said, sincere and grateful. His tone was rough and filled with so many emotions.

He followed her to the elevator, his dog trotting beside him. As the elevator lowered to Natasha’s floor she spoke up, quiet though it was only them in the small space with a dog, “I’m sorry about your wife.”

He closed his eyes and breathed through the pain that ached in his heart at the reminder of her, at the need to have her back, at everything he had lost. John said nothing.

Natasha hopes that John takes down every man and woman that comes his way and tries to kill him. He was a good man and a good friend.


End file.
